


Penny Dreadful [Sebastian x Reader]

by delibell



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Kuroshitsuji Fusion, Alternate Universe - Penny Dreadful Fusion, Anime, Demons, F/M, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Romance, Witchcraft, Witches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-02
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-07-11 20:49:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 10
Words: 18,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7069471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delibell/pseuds/delibell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>London, 1886, a year serial murders were the new hot trend. Coming at a loss in his investigation, Ciel Phantomhive seeks help from a witch nicknamed Penny Dreadful for her discreet taste in awful weekly fiction. Despite His and even Sebastian's skepticism of Penny both of them are equally surprised when she proves to be of much more use than they originally thought... or even intended.</p><p>[I OWN NOTHING BUT THE PLOT]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 1. The Witch, Humming.

There was a strange humming in the restless Autumn air. A faint whisper of some sort, hinting that something is coming. Something big and dark. Perhaps it was due to the sudden change in the weather, you weren't sure. But deep down in the very core of your bones you trembled with excitement or fear – the feeling was still unknown to you. 

The drizzling rain made your (color) eyes gaze out the small, crooked window of your falling apart home. The ache in your throat burned as you clenched your jaw, your fingers gripping the white sheets as a sudden, painful cough ripped out your lungs. Shutting your eyes you let the last haunting echo of your voice bounce on the pale walls before you pried your tired eyes open, only to shut them back again as if to hide from the bloody sight. The sheets were dyed red again, the corner of your mouth dripping with iron liquid you despised with all your heart.  

That odd hum, again. 

You got out of bed, slowly, not wanting to waste more energy than you should on such a simple task that over the months became so difficult. Taking your time, you stalked to the window, letting splinters of wood dig into your bare feet as you hugged yourself from the pinching cold. Foggy. So foggy outside. The old country road was empty, as always – no one came around these parts often, and if someone did it was surely not to see you. 

You turned away, staggering to the small table that had a  cracked mirror on it. With much effort, you made yourself presentable. Untangled your hair, smeared some eyeliner under your eyes and some rogue on your cheeks. You stopped your actions when you picked out your best dress – why were you preparing so much? Was it to entertain yourself? No...It was that humming, that faint whisper of the wind that cooed you into a corset. A small, barely visible tilt of your lips surprised even you and without more thought you put on the modest dress. 

Dipping a white cloth into clear water you wiped away any smears of blood that tinted your face, sending one last longing look at your reflection before you moved down the wooden stairs. Your hand latched onto the railing as your head spun unexpectedly and you nearly tumbled down. You had to prepare, you thought. You had to do something different today. 

Lighting up a fire in the fireplace, you moved around your small house to make sure everything was in place. Herbs? Check, but restock would be nice. Crystals? Check. Books? Check, through desperately in need of dusting. Animal blood? Check. Spices? Could be worse. 

With a huff you set down the heavy metal pot on the fire, in a couple of rounds filling it with water you had earlier collected from the well. A pinch of sugar, a tint of salt, a needle from a dead seamstress, a sting of a wasp, two cups of honey and one single strand of your (color) hair. The potion hissed at you. You smiled at it in return. 

Leaving it to boil you sat down in your armchair, your eyes briefly glancing at the deck of cards that laid on the small table in front of you. Your fingers twitched with anticipation. Your (color) irises then found the empty seat behind the table, an image of a person forming in your vision, but it so faint and foggy it went as soon as it appeared.  

You weren't always this sick and alone. You weren't always yearning to see someone go down the old country road. You weren't always so eager to leave- 

It felt like a pull – a feeling similar to the one where you needed to cough so badly you think you'll explode. But it wasn’t that. You sat up, your breath hitching in your throat as you stared at the main door. Your hairs stood on end as the far away footfalls of a horse and the rattling of a carriage came closer and closer. It stopped, and so did the humming. 

You stood up, ears faintly picking up voice from outside and a whine of the horse. Your home filled with a scent of honey, no doubt from the potion, seeping into the wet wood and leaving a sweet taste in your mouth. Lifting your dress up, you moved a bit faster than you normally would, with ease maneuvering through the cluttered living room and kitchen to the door. Your throat went dry and you gulped. How long has it been since you've seen another human in these parts? Three? Five years? Time was a tricky thing. 

With a firm pull you opened the door, the cool rain spalshing your forma as the harsh wind picked at your (color) skin. Your eyes shot to the wooden fence you've repaired so many times you couldn’t count, behind it seeing two men with black top hats and black coats. There was no gate. They could step into your flower garden, but they didn’t. 

_Not human.._. was all you thought, pride striking your chest that even in your condition the wards still worked. 

"Are you the one nicknamed Penny Dreadful?" The shorter one asked, his head held high.  

"It has been long since I've heard that name." You wished your voice was commanding like his. You wished it wasn’t rasp and almost incoherent. You wished you couldn’t feel the blood swirl in your lungs with each syllable "What do you want?" 

"I'm in need of assistance." The boy said. Well, perhaps it was  a man, but he sounded so young "So I'll ask again. Are you the one called Penny Dreadful?" Your eyes roamed from him to the tall man beside him.  _Him_. 

The humming was coming from him. He was not of this world. 

Your hand reached out to the counter and grabbing a jar you picked it open, taking out a a pinch of salt. 

" _Transibunt portam_ " You blew the salt into the air, not once taking your eyes away from the inhuman creature,  "You may come in. Unless you wish to catch a cold." You told, moving away from the door, your voice portraying a smile though your face did not show it. You strolled to the boiling pot, seeing bubbles rise and melt from the heat. You stirred the substance with a wooden spoon, hearing the door shut and the sound of dripping water dulling. 

Lifting your eyes up, you watched as the two men took off their coats and hats. You were right, the shorter one was a boy. Fifteen at most, if not younger. You saw a stain in him, not a visible one – it was on the soul, not his pricey clothing. The man next to him folded the dark garment – such pale skin and red, devilish eyes. You frowned – a creature of the night. You weren't fond of those. Wordless, you motioned the two to sit down. The younger one did, whilst the demon stood behind him like his shadow, which he no doubt was. 

"Apologies for my bad manners," The boy said, "We are in desperate need of assistance and could not waste time on bystanders." 

"Time has us all under it's will," You told, stirring one more time for good measure, "You needn't apologize." You didn’t think he cared for what you said – nor was his apology genuine. The boy cleared his throat, his shoulder shaking briefly from his soaked clothes. He was getting cold, you could tell. "A clean quilt is in the third cabinet to your right," You told, offhandedly, sitting in your armchair, "help yourself to it if your cold." Naturally, the lord, or so you guessed, didn’t move, but his butler did.  

"Thank you," He said as he wrapped himself in it, "My name is Ciel Phantomhive, and this is  Sebastian." 

"Penny Dreadful." You introduced. 

"Is that your real name?" Ciel wondered. 

"Does it matter?" He didn’t answer. Narrowing your irises, you continued to ask "What do you need help with, Sir Phantomhive?" 

"I was informed that you are a...witch." He told, skeptically, "-and magic is the only thing that could give us answers we otherwise could not learn." 

"I will ask you again, Sir Phantomhive," Your tone was colder, "What do you need help with?"  

The young lord frowned at you, but restrained from commenting. 

"As you may know London is in a tight pinch – brutal murders are an everyday thing and Scotland Yard is at loss. The Queen entrusted me to take care of this, and I intend to do so. Sadly, with out any witnesses, murder weapons or even a clear suspect even I cannot begin to phantom on where to start. As I said – I was informed you are familiar with magic and if you'd lend your assistance to us it would mean a great deal to all." He finished dryly. You nearly smiled – the speech was no doubt rehearsed all the way here.  

"Who told you of me?" You asked. 

"A man going by the name Undertaker," Ciel said, "Your name and location was all he shared." You had only met the reaper once and it was not a pleasant encounter – like the young fool you were you tried to snatch his hair and use it for a particularly difficult spell. Sadly, all it ended in was utter disappointment. 

"I see..." Was all you mumbled, standing up from your seat and stirring the pot again, "And you want me to do what, exactly?" 

"Help catch and identify the killer." 

"What if there is more than one?" 

"Then we hope you will help bring them to justice."  

The potion hissed again, and slowly you dragged out the big wooden spoon out of the golden substance, setting it down beside the fire. Burrowing your brows together, you stared into the very depths of it, the liquid stirring in such a fast pace a image of some sort started to get clearer with each spin. It was a hem of a white dress, fluttering in the wind, a scent of musky cologne hitting your nose as you saw pale fingers glide through (color) locks, a gasp of air echoing in your ears. A giggle. Then a cough and the potion dyed itself red, sparkling like eyes. 

You glanced at the smug figure behind Ciel Phantomhive, finding blood red irises staring at your form. 

Your future was intertwined with the man, _no,_ not a man –  _a demon_  – behind the young child that no doubt made a contract with him. You then gaze back at the potion – it had stopped boiling, all color eaten away, leaving it crystal clear and utterly useless.  

"If I can help in any way, than you can rest assured that I will." You spoke, sitting down. Learned in, you took the deck of dark blue cards and mixed for a minute before you spread them across the table, "But first, I must ask you to pick a card." You said. Ciel gave you an odd look – one ranging from being unsure to pondering if you were joking. His hand reached for a random card, and you immediately smacked it away "Not you." You blurred, your (color) irises meeting red ones, "Mister Sebastian" You said, "May you?" 

"Of course, Milady." Was all the butler told with a mocking bow, moving to the deck of cards and reaching for the one closest to the edge "Any card, yes?" 

"Look at them first." You said. The corners of his lips tilted into a smirk. 

"How can I? They're all closed." 

"Than I am afraid you might be blind." You jest, "Pick one who speaks to you. Not in words. Listen to the soft humming. Pick the one who shows you images no one else can see. The one who pulls you like a magnet, draws your fingers closer and demands to be touched."  

It was deadly silent for a minute as he lastly picked the third of from center and dragged it out the pile. You leaned back in your armchair. 

"Shall I open it?" 

You stared at the card, your gaze roaming from it to him and back. 

"There's no need." Was all you said, a faint smile stretching on your paled lips. You then  turned to Ciel, "I assume we won't be staying here for the investigation." 

"We leave for London as soon as you're ready, Miss Dreadful."  

"I best pack my bags, then." Was all you muttered, back on your feet, "Make yourselves at home. This won't take long." You finished, hurrying up the stairs. 

Whilst you packed Sebastian and Ciel shared looks, the butler curious about the card he drew. Ciel faked disinterest, though leaned in when the demon decided to flip it. 

**The Lovers.**  

What a peculiar card to draw.

 


	2. The Witch, Prayer.

 

The young lord shared a look with his butler and then his head turned to your form, travelling up the wooden stairs. He exhailed through his nose, finally able to relax – your stare was so unnerving, those intense (color) eyes penetrating his very being and peering into his soul. Ciel threw off the quit angirly, though his face portrayed nothing but annoyance. He stood up, letting the heat from the fire seep through his wet clothing and pleasantly warm his chilly skin. He wanted to speak with Sebastian, but he knew it was not safe – not yet.  

The butler stayed quiet, as did he, his attention now diverted to the abstract paintings on the dirty walls and various knickknacks lying around. Now that he had a better look around he wish he didn’t - such a filthy place, have you forgotten how to clean? The scent of honey was gone from the air without a trace, the reeking of iron, wet wood and dry herbs making his scrunch his nose though he held in the urge to cover it entirely. Ciel moved, slowly, as Sebastian kept his eyes strictly on his Master in case you had a nasty trick up your sleeve. 

As if drawn to something, Ciel shifted direction and stalked to an old bookshelf at the other side of the room, his hand pulling away the bead curtain that hid the old tombs from his ocean blue eye. His pale fingers traced the book covers, running down the engraved golden letters. A violent cough from upstairs made him stop, his head shooting to the upper floor. Something crashed to the ground and another cough broke loose. Sebastian pried his lips open to speak but Ciel shushed him by raising his hand. No need to help the witch if you aren't asking for it, correct? 

The Earl ignored the haunting echo of your rasp voice and turned back to the bookshelf, his brows knitting together as he gazed at the odd leather book. It had no name – at least, not where he could see – instead it had the sun and the moon, pierced by the devil's triton. His fingers latched onto it's side, pulling it out. 

"Do not touch it." You demanded, quietly, both the Lords and Sebastians heads snapping to you. You stood at the bottom of the stairs, your dress dirtied in speks of red as the grip on your bag was a bit too tight. "Did you open it?" You came to Ciel, yanking the book out of his grasp and gently putting it back. 

"N-No." It was a first, hearing this young boy taken aback. He quickly fixed his composure, though, "forgive me, I was curious. May I ask?" 

"No." Was your curt reply, your stare hardening as you gulped down a pile of saliva and blood painfully "-You may not. Now if you wish to start early we should leave." You finished dryly, moving to the kitchen. 

"Of course." Ciel replied robotically. 

As you put a couple of herbs and an old spellbook in your bag, you then glanced at the two dressed men. Nodding, you overlooked your home for one last time. It felt odd, knowing you won't be back for awhile, if ever. It was as if a string pulled on your heart, the old creaking of wooden floorboards making you shut your eyes, your paled face portraying sadness. The two men stepped past you and soon the howling of the wind and harsh splattering of rain greeted your ears. Pulling your limbs closer to stay warm, you moved along with them. Once outside you locked the door and turned away, not daring to look back. 

The inside of the carriage was nice and warm, the sounds of the storm muffled through the satin cushions and dark interior. You sat by the window, but you couldn’t see anything through it. Sebastian sat beside Ciel in front of you. The carriage became quiet once it started moving. 

"Is this your first time being away from home?" The butler asked, his voice soothing and gentle.  

"Not my first," You admitted, "But certainly my last." Lowering your voice you turned from the window, finding the young lord's magnificently blue eye staring right at you. 

"Have you ever been to London?" Sebastian faked interest. You gazed at him. 

"I lived there once." You said. 

"And why you don’t live there anymore? The outskirts of Brighton, well... Are a  drastic change from the city, don't you think?" Ciel wondered. 

"Will my answer help you find the killer?" 

"No." 

"Then why bother asking? Small talk is awfully tedious, it was one of the reason's I left London in the first place." 

"I am sorry to inform you that you will be staying there for an unlimited amount of time, " Ciel said, coldly, "It would do good getting used to small talk again. You are a lady, after all." You sighed through your nose. 

"That you are correct, Sir Phantomhive." You told, "And what is my story, I wonder?" 

"You are my third line cousin from Brighton that has come to vacation in London. You're married to a Sir named Victor Clare, an associate of mine that works in...a line of work that would not be approved by the masses, I can say that much. Some know who he is and some don’t - either way no one will pay it any mind." Ciel cleared his throat, continuing, "no one may know of who you are, for reasons I'm sure you understand. Speak to no one of being a witch or novice detective for that matter. Do we have a deal, Miss Dreadful?" 

"I promised to help and I will – I am a woman of my word." You rasped, your vision blurring for a moment as your hand shot to your coats pocket, yanking out a handkerchief and pressing it to your lips as a violent caugh ripped out your lungs, sparking tears into your closed eyes. Ciel and Sebastian shared a knowing look. You know they noted the bloodied white cloth you hid in your pocket again, and the spectacles of blood that dyed your lips. Gulping, you hummed at the ache in your throat. "Though, as you can tell, I do not have much time." 

"There are doctors at the city." Ciel told. 

"And what good am I in a hospital bed, Sir Phantomhive?" You raised an unamused brow, "I said I don't have much time, but I can assure that I do have enough. Now, if you may, the journey is long and I am not feeling my best at the moment." 

"Of course, Miss Dreadful, rest as much as you please." 

~*~ 

The Phantomhive Manor was cold and dark, just like the boy who owned it. You were briefly introduced with the staff of three – Finnian, Baldroy and Mei-Rin. Shortly, you were taken to a guest room by the single maid. She was a chatterbox and it surprised you Ciel Phantomhive tolerated her constant talking or even clumsiness. You, however, refrained from speaking. Blood swished in your mouth and you were scared to open it. 

Your room was plain in decoration, but pleasant to the eye. The dark colors were gloom, though perhaps for the better – the red won't stick out as much. Your small bag was set on the bed as Mei-Rin offered a helping hand to unpack. You declined and asked for her to leave. With little hesitation she did. 

The door shut behind you and you swayed in place, your palm coming to rest on your forehead. It burned. Cold sweat broke out your pores as you stumbled to your bag, trying to ignore how nauseous you were feeling. You parted it open, fingers rummaging through it before latching onto a cool metal and taking it out. You stared at the cross and it started right back. Slowly, you put it on your nightstand and sat down with a heavy sigh. 

God had abandoned the wicked witch a long time ago... But you weren't yet ready to abandon him. 

Intertwining your fingers you shut your eyes, holding your hands to your chest you silently mumbled prayers under your breath. Perhaps it was foolish to pray, but you did it every night before going to bed, and every morning when you woke up just in case He was listening. Your blind faith was your downfall, but perhaps the world will twist in your favor and it will become your salvation. 

"I didn't take you for the believing type, Miss." Sebastian's coo voice interrupted. You stopped, (color) irises finding him standing by the open door, "Forgive me for prying – I knocked, but there was no answer." 

"There are a lot of things one would be surprised to know I do," Was all you said, not wanting to stand up but you did anyway, "What do you need, Sebastian?" 

"Milord asked you for dinner."  

"I am not hungry." You told dryly, clearing your throat and moving to your bag, "Is that all?" 

"Yes, Miss Dreadful. I am sorry for the intrusion." He told, his  crimson eyes glancing at the cross, "If it's any consolation – someone may be listening." 

"You and I both know that is not true." You cut, "Not leave, demon." 

You _heard_  him smirk. 

"Goodnight, Miss Dreadful."  

The door shut yet again and you felt as if a weight was lifted off your shoulders, though those eyes still haunted your memory. Shivering, you changed out of your wet clothes into a nightgown you found in the closet. Blowing the lights out you let the darkness of the night shush you to sleep as you laid in those fine, comfortable sheets and wondered – was it really worth trading everything you had and hide in the deep countryside where the nearest town was fifty miles away?... 

Those red, sparkling eyes flashed in your vision, twinkling with mischief as a soft chuckle echoed in your ear lobe. 

Yes...Yes it was all worth it. And it was a mistake to come back.

 


	3. The Witch, A Name.

A tissue ripping cough escaped your lips, making your eyes flash open in the dead of the night, your form halting up as you smacked whatever was close to your lips to cover them. You saw white sparks in your vision as you wheezed for air, gasping at whoever was in the dark for help. You curled, pain striking your chest as your bones were set on fire. You didn’t hear when the door opened, nor did you see the strong hands that pinned you to the bed to keep you from trashing. 

Shouts, disoriented shouts were ringing in your eyes - you couldn’t tell were they coming from you or not. The curtain of darkness was lifted, dull candlelight brighting up your bedroom. You inhaled, sharply, your first breath of oxygen, feeling your lungs clog again. Your frantic eyes found sparkling red staring right back, and further behind two blond heads stumbling about the room. 

"Kitchen---" You rasped, your sentence cut off by another cough. Sebastian nodded, wordless, picking you up easily. Even through a layer of clothes his touch was chilling, but gentle, and in a moment you were standing on the pale kitchen floor, your fingers latched onto the demon''s arm. You pushed away from him, your world spinning around you as you slammed into a table of some sort, your arms opening cabinets in search for something. Shaky hands yaked out porcelain bowls, breaking a few in the process. Sebastian was by your side again, stopping a glass from shattering on the floor and sticking into your feet. 

"Miss Deadful, please," He hushed. You gave him a  glare, one that held no mercy in (color) eyes. "What are you looking for?" 

"licorice root, honey, salt water and ginger." You wheezed, another object slipping from your sweaty palms but Sebastian was quick to catch it. 

"I'm on it, Miss Dreadful!" Finnian shouted somewhere near the door, disappearing from your fading vision. You hurled over the table, the once white sparkling clean surface now splattered red. Sebastian tugged you away, and given the products you desired you qickly mashed them together mixing everything with a silver spoon, all the while muttering something under your breath so fast not even the butler could make it out. You then drank everything in one big gulp, your eyes watering with tears as the substance burned your aching throat. 

"Thank you..." You uttered after a minute, the kitchen falling completely quiet. Only now did you notice Finnian helping you hold the porcelain bowl, Sebastian's hand safely around your shoulder to keep you in place as Baldroy was heating up the water for a cup of tea.  Your form trembled from the cold, and robotically you turned your head to the taller man "I would like to go b-back to my room, now." 

"Of course, Miss." His voice did not sound pleasant, nor was it cold – it was simply natural. No overly sweet smirk or tone, no playful remark. He took you in his arms once again. The corridor was a complete blurr, and being taken to another room you pondered should you apologize for ruining the old one. Alas, once engulfed in warm covers you decided against it.  "I can bring you the cross, if you'd like." Sebastian said from the dark. 

"Do not bother." You uttered, "leave." You added, dryly. There was no reply.  

~*~ 

"Ah, Miss Dreadful, how are you feeling?" Ciel asked, putting away his newspaper to gaze at you. The breakfast table was big and empty, he sitting in he very front whilst you were seated at the far back. The food looked delicious, though you weren't hungry, and sparing  couple of glances at the sparkling drink Mei-Rin steadily poured into your cup, you then turned back to the young lord. 

"Better." You said, "It happens, sometimes. These dreaded episodes. I hope I did not disturb your sleep, Sir Phantomhive." 

"It's no trouble." He told, "Is it getting worse?" You licked your dry lips, gulping and averting your eyes from the boy. His vision was sharp, and his questions cut like dull knives – little, but in time would do great damage. 

"...Yes." You finally admitted, "By the day." 

"Is there no way we can help?" 

"No."  

"Are you sure?" 

"Why would I answer if I was not?" 

You could tell he didn’t like you as much as he pretended he did, but you didn’t care. Pregnant silence settled in the airy room as the staring contest between you and the Earl continued. 

"What are our plans for today?" You asked, taking a sip of your drink. 

"I'm afraid today we cant start our investigation--" 

"And why is that?" You narrowed your irises, "I believe we are in a time crunch, Sir." 

"Miss Dreadful I have a lot to take care of, and while yes, we need to find the murderers as fast as possible – today is not the day to start. You are sick – and the well being of my guests is my first priority. We shall start tomorrow at first light." So robotic, so diplomatic, so...emotionless. "for now, I have other business to take care of in London. I'll let Sebastian humor you for the time being. Settle in, Miss Dreadful. Read a book or two. I have left a few copies on your nightstand, I'm not sure if you noticed." 

"Penny Dreadful." You sighed out, "You know my tastes well." 

"It's all in the name, is it not?" Amusement shimmered in his tone, though not for long, "Now, if you'll excuse me." He lifted himself off the chair, with Sebastians help getting into a coat and a top hat. He stalked to you, tipping his hat, "Have a good day, Miss." You only bowed your head lightly. Ciel left. 

Now you and the demon were left alone.  

"You should eat." He commented. 

"I should do a lot of things," You countered, "-but I do not." 

"Are you trying to die?" He narrowed his irises at you, his look piercing your heart and making you glance away. 

"You are stepping into dangerous waters, Mister Michaelis." You hummed, standing up from your seat, "Do not forget who I am." 

"Witches don't scare me."  

"And they should not." You told, "It is who they serve that should frighten you... It frightens me." You added, and eerie silence following after your words. "Instead of staying home I would like to see the crime scene, if you be so kind to take me there." Sebastian lit up, a strange twinkle in his eyes changing the emotionless facade. The corners of his lips curled and he bowed. 

"I'll prepare the carriage immediately."  

You made your way to your new room with Mei-Rins help. She kept giving you that sympathetic look you despised so much – pity was the last thing you wanted and needed. The new room was much brighter, and upon entering you quickly noticed the stack of papers on your nightstand. Instead of answering the maids question – to be fair, you didn’t even hear what it was – you came closer to your favorite books, gazing at the bright and inviting covers and letting a small smile stretch on your lips as you took one into your hands and sat down. 

"--Miss?" Mei-Rin questioned, fixing her glasses and blinking like a fool. Was that a smile on your face, or was she seeing things? 

"Do you know why it's called 'Penny Dreadful'?" You asked her, not really waiting for an answer, "It only costs one penny, and the storyline, well, certainly cannot compare with the classics." Such a loving tone, a playful galnce at the maid by the door made you seem like a completely different person "I used to love them so much when I was a kid. My mother used to buy them every week as soon as a new one came out..." Gently, your fingers flipped the first page, "-what a long time has passed since I have seen her face..." 

"I-I have also read a few, Miss, yes I have!" Mei-Rin said cheerfully, stepping closer to you yet remaining cautious. 

"Have you now?" You lifted your eyes up from the bold letters, "Then perhaps one day we shall discuss it over tea, if you would like." 

"I-would-Yes! Of course, Miss Dreadful!"  

"I'd hate to interrupt" Sebastian hummed, standing by the door, "But we are ready to leave, Miss." 

"Of course," You shut the book, throwing it onto the soft sheets and getting on your feet. Taking your bag, it was moved her over the night, you bid farewell to the maid and exited with Sebastian. 

~*~ 

You had to put a handkerchief over your nose from the dreaded  stench of rotting flesh and drying blood. Scotland Yard was idling about, taking pictures whilst detectives mumbled to one another, exchanging glances when they noticed you. You walked around the tavern, stepping over the broken tables and shattered glass. Yous stopped near a dead body, examining the chunks of missing flesh and the one open eye that portrayed nothing but terror. 

This whole place reminded you of a slaughter house, but you weren't that surprised – not your first time stalking around  a massacre. Though, unlike now you weren't a spectator – more like an active participant. 

"Inspector Bartholomew Rusk, Scotland Yard," A grouchy voice told, making you look up at the man, "May I ask who you are and what are you doing here?" 

"Detective (Name) (Lastname), Sussex Police ." You replied, extending your hand to shake and throwing the handkerchief away, "forgive my rudeness, I did not expect to get approached so suddenly. You have a keen eye." You added, a smile tugging on the corner of your lip. You shook hands, the man narrowing his eyes at you. 

"Your far away from home, Miss (Lastname). What are you doing here?" 

"Call it a hobby." You told, gazing down at the corpse, "Gruesome massacres are a specialty of mine. I was visiting London when I read about it. Tragic, really. But I could not resist."  

"This is not an exhibit," Rusk deadpanned, "I understand your passi-" 

"I do have a permit, if that is what you're worried about." You replied curly, your irises finding Sebastian who watched you with interest, "My companion, Mister Michaelis has it." You finished pleasantly. Inspector Rusk stared at you for a long moment. 

"May I see it, then?"  

"By all means," You said, stepping past him and stepping to the butler. "My bag, Sebastian." You told. Once it was in your grasp you took out some papers, lastly handing the needed one to the Inspector. He examined it, his gaze going from you to your companion, his stare cool and hard to read. 

"Thank you, Miss (Lastname)." He told, handing it back to you, "Your assistance would aid us. If you find anything, you know where to find me." Rusk finished with a fake polite smile, giving a nod at Sebastian and biding ways with you. Once he was out of ears reach, Sebastian leaned to you. 

"Do you have fake permits lying around in that bag of yours, Miss (Lastname)?" He whispered. 

"Who knows." You replied, moving away, " Let us focus on the task at hand." 

"How mysterious," Sebastian inquired, "Fake names, fake papers. Before we know it – fake tuberculosis too." 

"Penny Dreadful is the name of a witch." You snapped at him, "(Name) (Lastname) is the name of a human. Do not mix the two up, Mister Sebastian." You turned away, "And my ilness is quite real, I assure you. I thought the events of this night had proven that. Now, please stay quiet. I need to focus." 

He did as you asked, and you closed your eyes while taking off your gloves. You fiddled with your fingers for a minute, letting them get used to the cool air as you inhaled the mixing smells. Drowning out the sounds from outside and inside, you focused on the still spilling blood, the echoes of the past that could still be heard. 

Your lips pried open on their own, a soft rumble of a voice escaping them in a slow manner. It sped up as you walked around. A howl, then a scream. A red flash, a gurgle of blood spilling from the dead man's mouth. The moon shining, such a pale light. Screaming, so much  screaming. Another howl. Glasses shattering to the floor. A cry for mercy-- 

Your eyes flashed open, the world around you brighter than you remembered. It was as if everything moved in slow motion, the dead bodies coming back to life and falling to their death again and again as if on a  broken record. You spun on your heel, the blurry form of the killer playing in your eyes before they faded away. 

A cry for help shattered the image, haunting your ears and making your hands tremble as cold sweat broke out your pores. Inhaling a slow, ragged breath you gulped., biting your lower lip and shaking off the eerie images your mind replayed. You turned to Sebastian, stalking to him. 

"Who ever did this was not human," You whispered, harshly, "Not a work of a demon or a witch either." 

"Then who?" 

"I do not know." You shook your head, "We must leave. This place is getting too crowded." You mumbled, walking past him and out the broken door. 

The smell of water was refreshing as your eyes briefly overlooked the boats and gaping masses of bystanders, all trying to get a peek inside the Inn. You moved away from their eyesight, Sebastian following hot on your tail. The two of you stopped near the railings separating you from a far drop into cold water. 

"I presume we shall be heading home soon, yes?" Sebastian wondered.  

"Then you presume wrong." You told, your voice rasp, "the day is still young – we have many more places to visit." 

"Oh? More crime scenes?" 

"Some – yes. Some – no." You turned to him, "You are standing awfully close." 

"Does it bother you?" 

"Should it?" 

"I noticed you like avoiding questions, Miss (Lastname)." 

"That is  _Penny Dreadful_  to you, demon." You spat, inching closer as if to prove your superiority, "If you think your sweet tones will fool me, you are sadly mistaken." 

"Who said you to be fooled?" He hummed. You faltered. "I assure you, Miss  _Dreadful_ , the only thing I think is that you should lighten up." His fingers wrapped around your chin, "Such a pretty face. A shame to waste it all on frowning." You glared at him, your brows burrowing together. 

"I guess even the likes of you need insurance. Seducing me will do you little good. I am dying, after all." 

"Nothing a little magic can't fix." He murmured, his face coming closer. Blood red irises roamed your face, going from your eyes to your lips in a manner of seconds as his own twitched into a smug smirk. 

"Some things are not meant to be fixed." You countered, cooly, feeling your head spin from his closeness. A scent of musky cologne hit your nose, the closeness of him practically intoxicating. But you didn’t back down, "let me die in peace, Sebastian." You finished, yanking your face out of his grasp and taking a step back. "Get me virgins blood. Kill one if you must, I do not care." Sebastian straightened up. 

"Anything else?" 

"A feather of a black crow and heart of a wolf. Still beating would be preferred. I  will be at Smiths Coffee." You told, "I leave you too it." 

You walked away. He watched your retreating back right up to the point where you opened the Coffee Shops door. It was as if you were afraid to turn back. He smiled to himself, releasing a low chuckle. 

"You won't be able to resist me forever, Miss Dreadful..." He muttered to himself, "Especially since you don't want to." 

With one last proud smirk, he disappeared.


	4. The Witch, A Chat.

Rain sprinkled on your hair, leaving small crystal drops of water tangled in your (color) locks. Your gloved fingers wrapped around the door handle, yanking it open. The coffee shops air heated your cheeks and the smell of baked goods and freshly brewed hot beverages tickled your nose. You briefly glanced around – it was nearly full, only one small table in the very back. Ignoring some looks men sent your way, you waltzed to the table. Of course they'd stare – a face as pretty as yours without an escort? Were you looking for trouble? 

Setting your bag near your chair you sat down, maintaining posture you delicately took the menu, (color) irises scanning it fast. A waiter was by your side in nearly an instant, and with a polite smile you looked up at him. 

"Good day, Miss," He greeted. You merely bowed your head lightly, "May I take your order?" 

"Earl Grey, please." 

"Anything else?" 

"No, that is fine." 

"May I know your name?" 

"Will you change my order if you may not" 

"No," The man smiled, "But it will change the amount of sugar cubes you will get." 

"...Penny." You said after a staring contest, "Penny D." 

"And what does the 'D' stand for?" He pestered. 

"I believe four sugar cubes will be enough, thank you." You finished, turning away from him. He excused himself shortly after. The smell of water hit your nose, chilly air radiating from someone nearby. At the other end of the table you saw the demon butler, smirking confidently as he met your gaze. 

"Back so soon?" You asked, dully. He chuckled. 

"To put it in your own words, Miss, there is not time to waste." He replied.  

"And did you gather what I asked?" 

"But of course, Miss Dreadful. Though, I must say, finding a wolf was not e-" 

"Save it, Mister Sebastian," You told, coolly, "I do not care." He shut his mouth once the waiter brought you your drink and asked him for his order. The butler dismissed him, and he left again. Blowing on the hot tea, your eyes stared into the depths of the porcelain cup, your gloved fingers tingling pleasantly from the heat, "After our break I wish you would take me to Miss's Elena Croft. She grows a certain species of illegal flowers we need." 

"Are you preparing a spell?" He asked, curious. 

"Yes." You told, curly, "One that shows the past. A lot...more difficult than a quick one to show the future." 

"Is that so?" 

"Do virgins blood, a feather of a black crow and a heart ripped out a still breathing creatures chest do not imply so?" You raised an unnamused brow, noting his eyes narrowing – the change was subtle, though. You took a sip of your drink, shutting your eyes and savoring the feeling as the hot liquid glossed over your dry throat, "If we gather everything we need by nightfall my assistance will not be needed within a few days. The potion takes time to brew – you are lucky you contacted me on a full moon. If that were not the case, I am afraid I would not be able to help." 

"You would've grown tired of waiting?" 

"I would be dead, Mister Sebastian." Your eyes morphed into a sharp glare, "Now, may you please pay the bill?" Wordless, he did as you asked. 

And hour later you stepped out the carriage and near a crumbling building, ignoring the judging looks of beggars. Without wasting more time, you went inside, Sebastian sticking to your side. 

"This Croft...What kind of flower does she grow?" 

"Do you care or are you looking for a conversation?" You questioned, not turning to him and proceeding to go up the stairs. 

"You know me well, Miss Dreadful."  

Abruptly, you stopped, turning to him. With your head, you motioned to one of the half naked women on the upper floor. 

"Pay one for a chat and do not bother me further." 

"You wound me with such hostility. Don’t you like my company?" 

"Would you like a demons company?" 

"I wouldn’t particularly mind." 

You had nothing to say. He chuckled. Trotting to the needed door you knocked on it, feeling his presence behind you and again, much too close.  

"Mind the distance, Mister Sebastian." You huffed, "Or I might change my mind on helping you." 

"That wouldn’t be a bright idea, Miss Dreadful." 

"I have nothing to lose." Was all you said and the door finally opened. Confused brown irises roamed from you to the butler behind you, holding her dress closer to her chest the woman pried her lips to speak but you beat her to it "Good day, Miss Croft. I am here because I know you grow a certain flower that cannot be found anywhere else. I would like to purchase one, if you were so kind to let us in." You told, a fake smile brimming your face and tinting your voice, "Do not worry – this exchange will stay completely classified." The woman still looked unconvinced though, her frightened gaze going from you to Sebastian and back in a manner of seconds. 

"Miss Croft," Sebastian stepped in, her stance faltering like a wilting flower. Slowly, he reached for her hand, his eyes not once leaving hers. You watched with interest – life seemed to spark in her disoriented brown irises as her pale hollow cheeks filled in with a hot red blush. Sebastian kissed her hand and Elena smiled, timidly. You raised a brow, "May we enter?" Glancing around for any unwanted attention, Elena quickly motioned for the two of you to come in. Smug, Sebastian let you enter the small apartment first. 

"Are you not filled with pride." You commented with bite in your voice. Elena got lost behind an moth chewed curtain, mumbling something about being right back. You and the butler were left alone yet again. 

"Your approach was too...doll like. Perfect, in a way. See, humans are delicate creatures. They don't want to be treated as equals," He explained, "all their small hearts desire is to feel special. Beyond equal." You had nothing to say to his words, so you settled with glaring, "Wouldn’t you agree?" He left the question hanging in the air as a moment later Elena Croft showed up with a wollen bag, gently handing it to you. 

"I hope you know what you're doing with it, Miss, because it's not safe to use a-" 

"I will dip it in virgins blood and prepare a meal with a wolf's heart," You told coldly, "I know what I am doing, but thank you for the concern." The woman gulped, unconsciously stepping away from you. Sebastian, as sweet as ever, coo her back and paid a few pounds for the produce. If you didn’t know any better you'd say he was showing off. Sustaining the urge to roll your eyes you bid farewell to the young maiden, exiting her cramped appartment and later the building itself. Your carriage was waiting for you, and as Sebastian opened the door for you to step inside you faltered. 

"No." You told, releasing the hems of your dress, "You may leave now, I have other business to attend to." 

"And what sort of business might that be?" He pestered, his crimson eyes narrowing. 

"Those that I must attend to alone." You mumbled, "I shall meet you in Sir Phantomhives Manor." Handing him the dried flowers, fixed your gloves, "I would appreciate if you went to the kitchen and prepared everything. In my bag there is a book, take it with you. You will find the recipe on page forty-three." 

"And which book would that be?" 

"Oh, do not worry," You told, lowly,  "I only took one with the easiest spells." A small, barely visible tilt of your lips portrayed amusement, "Would not want Sir Phantomhive and his demonic butler to summon something they should not."  

"I shall get to it, then." Sebastian bowed, almost mockingly, "Have a lovely day, Miss (Lastname)." 

"Careful now, Mister Sebastian. You forget I know of spells that could seal you for eternity." With one last look sent his way to turned, lowering your head as a drizzle started, the cool wind brushing against your face. Your feet were quick to carry you away, and turning a corner you got lost from his sight. 

Excitement spurred in your chest as you listened to what the rushes of people around you, your steps echoing in the emptier street as the whines of horses and curses of soaked men were left behind. You bit your lips. 

You had wanted to come here for a very, very long time.


	5. The Witch, Each and Every.

The air was cold and harsh to your sore throat, setting your lungs on fire with each and every breath. You felt a thin layer of sweat coat your body from the fast pace and gradually you slowed down, stopping completely once you gazed at the magnificent building with a somber and longing look. The park was almost empty of people, some children playing in the rain and couples strolling about hand in hand. You wanted to step through the gate and come closer, but something stopped you – something inside gripped your heart, forbidding your limbs to move. Was it fear? Most likely so. 

You felt tears pick on the corners of your beautiful (color) eyes, a deep breath calming down a rising sob. You couldn’t take your irises away from the church. It drew you like a moth to a flame, but perhaps you shouldn’t listen to your heart – perhaps it was time for logic to take over. You should walk away. Walk away and not return to these parts ever again. 

But all you wanted was to try. To try and beg for help. What if...What if someone truly was listening? What if that someone was God? What if your prayers will finally be answered if you just threw away your fear and walked through that heavy wooden door into his home?  

Closing your eyes you threw logic out the window and stepped into the park. Head lowered, you quickly passed everyone who lingered in your path, soon hopping up the stone steps until finally your hand yanked on the wooden entrance's handle. A whiff of cold stone, wet wood and oil paint greeted your nose. Your heart jumped, a smile briming your normally saddened features as you quickly entered the church. 

It was quiet here – so quiet and peaceful that it almost felt like a dream. Your heard a cough or two coming from some women in the very front, but didn’t pay mind to it. Your eyes went from the ground to the alter, the soft breath you took in locking in your lungs as your irises sparkled at the golden cross and marvelous statues of angels. Your knees buckled and you nearly fell down. Restraining yourself, you crossed yourself and bowed your head, taking the nearest seat. 

You pushed your dress out of the way and got on your knees, your trembling hands nervously hooking as your eyes found Mother Mary. Gulping, you licked your drying lips and took in a ragged breath. Under your breath, you said one prayer. Then another one. Shutting your eyes hard your grip tightened so that your knuckles turned white. The prayer was almost a hissing whisper, so fast and incoherent that whoever was listening might not understand. 

With a flash, you opened your eyes and stopped, your breathing labored. 

"Father, Mother..." You murmured, resting your forehead on your hands, "-please, please help me. Do not let my demons haunt me. Please...Please I beg of you, please be listening. I know what I have done – I have wished for evil and I regret it each and every day, with each and every breath, each and every beat of my heart and each and every word that leaves my mouth. I wished for glory, my head was filled with pride and I beg of you, please, please forgive me. I repent. I repent, I will do anything. Take my life if you may, take anything, just please, My Holy Lord, shun that evil back to Hell where it came from." A tear. Two. Three. Your vision became blurry, "Please...Please, I do not know what to do, I-" a ticklish sensation on the back of your palm interrupted your sobbing, making you look up. Your hands cramped, your hairs standing on edge. 

A spider. 

You wheezed, your eyes shooting to Mother Mary. Small, black creatures crawled on her paled face, rushing down like a waterfall, as if a stream of water gliding down the marble floor and crawling onto your dress, hands and hair. Your abruptly stood up, loudly at that, attracting some spectators as tearful and angry you rushed out the door. 

The rain hit harder now. No one was around anymore, the last pedestrians hiding away in the nearby shops or cafes. You let the rain soak your dress, a shiver shaking your body and a caugh picking at your throat. 

Someone was indeed listening. But that someone was not God. 

You reached the Phantomhive Manor in a few hours by carriage, but the rain didn’t stop. You felt defeated and absolutely drained. Whatever you had to cover up your lips was stained with blood, just like your face – but you didn’t care. You tried, and you failed for the umpteenth time. And this time you went in with such hope, such dreams – just like the first time. And what you got? A smack in the face. A loud and mocking laugh from the Devil. A reminder that you will never get rid of your sin. Redemption was a lie.  

Why even try at all? 

"Miss Dreadful!" Mei-Rin shrieked once she opened the door, hurriedly yanking you inside the warm and sweetly smelling home, "Miss Dreadful are you all right?!" She pestered, calling for the others to bring your fresh clothes and something so wipe the dried blood away from your sore lips. You dismissed her, wordless, feeling almost weightless as you pushed past the tray of servants that tried to help you. On the inside you felt empty – the half litted, dull gaze showed that. Dizzy, you made it up the stairs, "Miss Dreadful?!" The maid called, frightened. 

"Leave me be." Was all you choked out, but you didn’t know nor care if she heard. The dark corridor was spinnng – no doubt a fever was frying your brain and rattling your bones. You stopped near a door, but you weren't sure was this your bedroom. Resting your hand on the cool wall you tried to grasp reality, but all you could feel were spiders crawling on your skin and under. 

That hum. That odd hum again. 

The ground slipped beneath you as your throat clogged, unable to gasp for air you fell into someone's arms, but sadly, despite your efforts you could not tell who it was. 

… 

You awoke an hour later, all cleaned up and fresh, tugged nicely into warm sheets with hot tea and a good book by your nightstand. For some time, you were alone, sipping tea and staring into the newest issue of  _Penny_ _Dreadful_  blankly. Until a knock on your door made you look up, a smiling butler with a new set of pillows and a clean blanket poking his head through the crack. 

"I see you are awake," He said, stepping into your room and shutting the door behind him. You didn’t respond, merely glanced back at the book, "I was informed you came back with a...worse condition." 

"I was tired." You rasped. 

"And covered in blood." You shot him a  sharp glare, though he merely smiled, setting down the silk objects, "You seemed fine when I left you. Pray tell what happened." It was not a question, which took you aback – usually, he was coy with his speech. This time, however, a tint of seriousness lingered in his cooing voice. You leaned into the pillows, shutting the book and putting it on your nightstand. 

"Do you know why I live alone?" You questioned. Sebastian raised a brow. 

"On our way here you said your answer would not help identify the killer," He told, "So no. I don’t." 

"I was running." You said, making him freeze for a split second before he continued to fluff the new pillows, "I was foolish to think I would get away, though. As you may have noticed my home is littered with charms and protections. But nothing can truly help from an evil as great as his." Sebastian looked at you, his gaze unreadable. You gulped, feeling your throat ache from talking, "I... Was a cunning witch in my youth. A to be Night Walker, from my stupidity no doubt. I was...devoted to the magic you consider 'good'. Truth be told, it is not good nor bad, but it does come from nature." You cleared your throat, "But I wanted more. Nothing was ever enough. I wanted to be known, my name to be whispered among the folk as 'The Great One'. I have created so many spells, so many bad ones, I believed I deserved the recognition I did not get. And so I prayed. I asked The Lord for glory, I asked to be recognized not only in His eyes, but theirs as well."Sebastian narrowed his irises, "And I was answered." You smiled, through your eyes portrayed no joy, "I was answered...But not by Him. Not by God. And it took me much too long to realize that. I did get my glory – all that crossed me bled from their mouth and eyes, all that disagreed with me were destined to pick on their own skin until there was nothing but bones left." You inhaled, "-and I loved it. I thought I was the chosen one, the glorious one, one day to take place next to God's angels." Your gaze shifted away from him, "Only...only when I started hearing his voice, and blacking out and—the night terrors did not stop, did I realize that it was not God who answered me. It was an angel of his-" 

"-the Father of all evil." Sebastian cut you off, skeptically, "Lucifer." The name stuck you like lightning. Sebastian chuckled, softly shaking his head, "forgive me, Miss Dreadful, but what does My Lord wish with a witch like you? Please don’t take it to heart, but you're...boring. Average. There was and is no need for him to recruit you when he already has us." 

"You are so young," You murmured, "young and naive, just like I once was. Lucifer does not want me to be his soldier, nor does he wish for my company..." 

"Then what for?" 

You stayed quiet. 

"I believe that is a story for another time. You may go." He almost seemed offended. Almost. Bowing, though not as gracefully, he left shortly after. You were left alone. Your eyes roamed to the cross on your nightstand, it being turned away from you. Just like the one you once served. All of His belongings turned away from you. 

Your mind travelled to the book back home – the one with the sun, the moon and the Devils pitchfork passing through them. Your fingers latched onto the sheets as your jaw tensed. You noticed shadows move in the dark, but didn’t react. 

...That book... 

Three knocks on your door.  

...If that book ever got into the wrong hands-- 

 The lights in your bedroom blew out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note to explain the symbolism! (If you understood all without an explanation, I am proud. You're as weird as me haha)  
> The Spiders - in the original show 'Penny Dreadful' they appear when Vanessa Ives prays and/or when the Devil wants to show himself.  
> 'Night Walker' - introduced in season 2 of 'Penny Dreadful'. Refers to witches that worship Lucifer.  
> Three knocks - if I know anything about horror movies is that this trope is one of their favorites! It is interpreted as someone unholy (usually demonic) mocking the holy trinity.  
> Have you noticed that it's almost always raining? The weather is a link to our beloved Readers emotions.  
> All for now! Hope you enjoyed this chapter <3


	6. 6. The Witch, The Lion.

Cool fingers turned the even cooler faucet, hot water splashing onto pale skin in the dead of the night. The candle's flickered from time to time as the lone figure passed into the washroom and back. It kneeled next to the porcelain bath, arms folded onto the side it rested its head and stared into the filling tub. Hot steam tickled its face. Boiling water burned its skin once it dipped its hand into it, letting it stay there before taking it out and staring at it as if seeing fingers for the first time. The water started to drip. First a few drops on the marble floor. Then the whole washroom flooded with a light stream of hot water, soaking the garment of the lone being inside. 

It stayed put, though, unmoving, as if savoring the very last drop of warmth before it stood up. Trembling hands reached for the figures neck. The lights flickered. Wrapping around the rosary those same hands took it off. A slow minute passed as the golden cross just idled in the air. A deep inhale. Long fingers came loose. A splash. The water turned red. 

A low whisper bounced off the pale walls of the washroom like a hum. But it was not familiar. It was different. Hash. Angry even. Unpleasant to the ears, leaving a bitter taste in one's mouth. One that sent shivers down the preys spine, striking fear in their hearts and poisoning their mind. The hum...of a predator. A lion that set it's eyes on a naive sheep. It was the strike of adrenaline. The tensing of muscles. But most of all, the tearing of the living flesh.  

A spider crawled from beneath the bath, dark and long legged. It floated in the water. Then two. Three. Four. Five.  

You couldn’t tell where the red began and a spider ended. 

Your feet submerged into boiling water, it sending heat through your body as you felt almost lightweight. In a daze, almost. One that left you feeling sick to your stomach. Your hair stuck to your face as if glued – a thick layer of sweat riddled your body with a cold shudder. Clammy palms grasped the wet porcelain, slowly you stood up, reddened irises roaming about your bathroom. Ignoring the tickling sensation on the palms of your feet and going up your leg, you let the water flow as you moved out. An unpleasant crunch followed after you with each step, along with a splash, the humid air making it hard to breath. Finally, you reached the door to your room and pushed it open. A wave of dirty water soaked the expensive carpet. 

A soft, low rumble was heard, but you couldn’t pin point from where. Your stomach tensed, a painful smile tugging on the corners of your lips as with a new rush of energy you marched down the room to your bed, your eyes set on the cross on your nightstand. Your fingers gripped it, hard, almost cracking, as you abruptly spun on your heel and threw it half across the room. 

"Is this what you want, Father? Is this what you want?" A low growl escaped your chapped lips. The cross was flushed with water, "You have forsaken me, you—you--" You were unable to finish your sentence as a gurgle of a chuckle interrupted. You stood, shaking with laughter, yet trying your best to contain it. Your mood warped as the faucet was squeaked shut. Glaring, your balled your fists, long nails digging into the sensitive flesh and drawing out blood. "Look what you have done to me." You rasp angry. A flashing burn in your eyes made you tear up, "Why have you forsaken me? I--" Again, that laugh wiped your head clean of pain and remorse. 

For a while you stood in place, chuckling. Your darkened irises roamed to the nightstand, another painfully hilarious laugh pushing past your lips that formed a cruel grin. Effortlessly you smacked series of _Penny Dreadful_ books to the floor, letting the ink soak. The room was no longer cold, nor hot. Your heart no longer carried the shadow of guilt, nor did the wounds on your palms sting. It was peaceful – the silence was tranquil.  

"What an awful line of literature." You mumbled, so quiet not even the sharpest of ears could hear you. Your long legs carried you to your bag. Blinded by darkness you grasped around it, taking out a couple of books but throwing each to the side harshly – it was not here. Yanking the leather bag you spilled it into the water. Throwing it angrily, you released a frustrated sigh. Then, your eyes drew to the main door.  

Behind it – a corridor. If you could find Sebastian, all of your problems would end with one, fa--- 

You stopped, abruptly, your bones trembling from pain. Your fingers curled and you bite your lower lip, hard, shutting your eyes so tightly that you saw twinkling stars. 

"Get out." You muttered, lowly, threatening the air. Wind caressed your tensed shoulders, engulfing you as if a hug from behind. 

"But you don’t want me to leave."  

There it was. That lions hum. Sounding so sweet and gentle, but you knew better. It was nothing but pure evil whispering in your ear.  

"I will scream." You told, harshly.  There was no response. With an intake of your breath you felt your anger seethe, and you parted your eyes open, only to softly close them again. You swallowed, hard, feeling your throat itch. Your feet splashed to the door as your fingers wrapped around the handle and you turned it open. 

The corridor was much colder, air biting skin that stuck a thin white nightgown. It was dark – darker than in your room, perhaps. You stopped a few feet away from it, listening closely for the familiar humming, sadly, all you could hear was the splashing water. Wet wood picked on your feet. You felt a tug, as if a friend had taken your hand, showing you where to go. You followed that instinct, that warm welcoming hand that led you through the maze of the Phantomhive Manor. 

You found yourself opening an unfamiliar door, the light from the room hurting your eyes. The creaking of wood made the lone man freeze. It seems he was buttoning up his shirt, surprised red irises locking with your (color) ones. The silence was almost deafening – your tongue swelled and unable to say a word you stepped through the threshold, hurriedly shutting the door behind you, all the while not daring to look away. 

Sebastian's eyes roamed your body, coming back to your face in a second. A polite smile tugged on his lips, though you sensed he did not like the way you looked. 

"What a pleasant surprise, Miss Dreadful." He told, motioning to his bed, "Please, have a seat if you wish." You shook your head. 

"I was...wrong about you, Sebastian." The voice that left your mouth was almost alien to your ears. You stepped closer, cutting the distance short. You stood next to him, so close your soaked chest was lightly touching his. Your tilted your head upwards, finding his confused gaze peering into your darkened eyes with cautious interest. Your fingers touched his face, gently, as if he was made of glass. A small, somber smile tugged on the corner of your blue lips "I need your help." You murmured, "Please, you are the only one who can assist, Sebastian." 

"Am I no longer just a 'demon'?" He raised a brow. You shook your head, closing your irises for a long moment. 

"No, no...You never were." Your palm cupped his cheek, "And you knew that, did you not? You always knew, from the day we first met." 

"You asked me to draw a card." 

"And you listened," Your voice was almost pleading, "please, you must listen now as well." His attention was fully yours. You smiled, softly, "The book – the one I told Sir Ciel not to touch, do you remember it?" He borrowed his brows, and you took his silence as a 'yes', "I need you to bring it to me as soon as possible. Leave now if you must, but I have to have it in my possession before it is too late." 

"Too late fo-" 

"No time for questions." You interrupted, "Sebastian, will you help me?" He stood silent, his arms dead by his side as he searched your face for an answer he was not meant to get.After a pause, he licked his drying lips. 

"I will." 

You released a relieved sigh, your clammy fingers caressing his cool skin for a moment before you looked into his eyes, then his lips and back. The closeness was almost intoxicating, filling your nose with his musky scent. As if drunk your vision shook for a moment, your lungs set on fire as you leaned in for a kiss. 

A cough ripped out your mouth and you had barely enough time to slap a hand over it. Sebastian's hands landed on your shoulders to stop you from falling as you lost your balance, genuine concern on his face but you didn’t notice. You coughed again, feeling the back of your throat tickle and you gagged, blood spewing on your palm before a force so great knocked the air out of you that your whole body ached. Taking in a ragged breath you slowly pushed the palm away from your lips, only to stare in horror at the wiggling creature. 

A spider. 

All light was sniffed out, your form as light as a feather falling into his arms before you could grasp the last bit of consciousness. 

 

Morning came by in a flash. You hardly recalled the events that took place just hours prior, and fiddling with your fork you tried to ignore the unpleasant taste in your mouth and how the new corset made it hard to breath. Apparently, you flooded the bath. God knows what came over you, and when Ciel asked you could only apologize – night terrors, you said, they do strange things to the brain, you added. 

Breakfast was relatively quiet as you and the Earl were not talkers. Eating your food in peace, you gulped it down with a tasty drink and set your tired eyes on Ciel – he was watching you, closely, suspicion riddling his ice cold eye. 

"Sebastian has informed me that he prepared the spell." He told, curly. You glanced at the butler. "If you are feeling well, could we begin?" 

"Of course." You said, "Forgive me for not being able yesterday – this London weather made me sick." You set down the glass, "It always rains...Does it not make you nauseous, Sir Phantomhive?" 

"You get used to it as time goes by," He said, trying to sound lighthearted. Turning to his butler he gave orders to fetch the stew, which Sebastian did in a moments notice. You stood from your seat, walking to the middle of the long table along with Ciel. Opening the pot, you eyed the red substance for a second before dipping your finger in it. Ciel wrinkled his nose from the smell.  

"Are you ready, Sir Phantomhive?" You asked, raspy. 

"What is it I do?" He sounded determinated, but you could tell he did not like this situation one bit. 

"You will eat from my hands. I suggest taking off your new coat. It might get smeared." You told. He nodded, stiffly, in a moment his jacket was resting neatly on Sebastian's arm. You sunk your hands into the mushy substance, closing your eyes and feeling the strings of a once beating heart with the palms of your sensitive fingers, letting the blood seep through your skin and fill your body. Inhaling, slowly, as if to taste it, you lifted your hands out, hearing the substance drip back into the pot. You scooped some up again, murmuring something under your breath harshly. Turning to the young lord, you opened your sharp irises to stare into his. "Shall you do it or I?" 

"Do we have a choice?" He questioned. 

"It depends – do you wish to suffer or will you let me do it?" You asked. He seemed to ponder for a moment, lastly sighing. 

"I believe you have suffered enough, Miss Dreadful." He told, cooly, "Allow me." You nodded. With great loathing, he gulped down the bloody substance down his throat, his eye going wide as he choked. 

"Burn the rest, Sebastian." You ordered, hurriedly, grasping the boys hands to keep the away from crawling on his throat. Sebastian did as you said without question. Ciel coughed, violently, his eye filling with tears as his face grew paler by the second. You made him look at you, "Do not panic, breathing is not necessary, do not try to. You will be fine, please, do not try to breath." He collapsed in your arms. You turned to Sebastian. "You should stay with him for the rest of the day. Keep him chained to the bed if you must." 

"Why?" 

"He will try to escape the pain by all means necessary." You said, hollow, your hand rubbing the unconscious boys back almost lovingly, "The things he will see in his dreams will haunt him for the rest of his life. I told you, it is not a simple spell." 

"Will it work?" 

"Yes." You murmured, "I assure you. But keep him safe. Tied down." 

"What else should I expect, Miss Dreadful?" 

"Screaming. Blood stilling, agonizing screaming." You glanced at the burning pot, blue flames dancing as dark grey smoke rose upwards, "and when he awakes, you should find me immediately." 

"You won't be present?" 

"No. I will try to ease his pain with what I can find." You said, dryly, "Now please, take him to bed." 


	7. The Witch, No fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for all the kudos and kind words! It brings me no greater joy than knowing how much you all enjoy reading this story! It is BY FAR my favorite one to write! Victorian London is just my jam: cold, dark, fearful, dirty and absolutely beautiful. Will definitely be visiting it again in my other fics, perhaps even with different characters...  
>  Anyway! This one's a bit short, kinda a filler, but hey! I just really wanted to post something. Enjoy!

The tea cup was placed back on the saucer as a deafening silence settle in the Manor. Sebastian was nowhere in sight. Mei-Rin sat tensed by the table, her hands trembling ever so often. She set her drink on the mahogany wood, her eyes lifting to  stare at you next to her. You inhaled sharply, closing your irises once the agonizing screaming started again. 

"Miss..." Mei-Rin flinched, her head shooting upwards when the voice of her master became louder. Quickly, she leaned in, her hand reaching for yours but she stopped it just before it touched you, "Please, Miss, do something..." She begged, her voice cracking at the end. You didn’t look at her instead staring out the window. It had started to rain a couple of hours ago and hadn't stop since then. Thunder rattled in the distance. 

You took a sip of your now cold Earl Grey tea, the taste bitter and unpleasant but it was enough to distract you from the screaming that took place just a floor above your head. You were thankful you didn’t have to go through that, but letting Ciel...Was a mistake. He is just a boy, after all, whilst you are a witch that has done this many times before. You could clearly recall the striking pain in your bones, the burning skin and eyes that felt like glass – but most of all the most horrific hallucinations that could be made up by man. You wondered what did he see, that boy? Surely no demon can scare him this much – one serves him, after all. 

Your thoughts were interrupted by the rattling of a chair as it screeched on the marble floor. You glanced at the fuming maid, her worry replaced by anger. You couldn’t see her eyes, but the sneer on her face informed that she was glaring murderously at you. 

"Miss Dreadful, you promised!" She hissed, "You promised to help ease his pain!" You wished you could see her piercing gaze through those foggy glasses – perhaps it would make you feel even an ounce of remorse. Then again, perhaps not. 

"And I lied." You told calmly, almost robotically turning back to stare through the window and sipping your cold tea. 

"What—Miss!" The maid paled, "Please, you must help Master Ciel! Please, Miss, you promi--!" 

"I lied." You told cooly, your voice lowering, (colour) eyes shooting an annoyed glare to the servants direction. She gaped. You stood up, "Thank you for the tea." You said, brushing past her as if she was nothing but empty space. Mei-Rin couldn't form a sentence. You turned a corner, a scream echoing through the mansion again and nearly stopping you in your tracks. 

You can't interfere. The cards told you to stay away. 

Your hand grabbed the cool railing as your head started to spin, a gush of blood running out your nose. Your throat clenched.  

You did not have much time after all. 

Your quick hand searched the isnide of your dress for something to cover your lips, but coming up empty you slapped your palm over them, a painful cough ripping out your lungs just the next second. Your eyes stung with sparkling tears as you tried to hold yourself up. When you inhaled again it was raw and itching, oxygen feeling like cold water running down your throat. The inside of your palm dripped with crimson blood. Still dizzy, you slowly walked up the stairs, trying to get back to your room before the fever struck your head. 

You pushed your door open, nearly falling in. You glanced around, as if forgetting where your bed was. Once you found it you-- 

Your heart tumbled to the pit of your stomach, your grip on the handle tightening to the point where the skin around your knuckles started to tear. You took a step forward, an uneasy, fearful one. 

A leather book with no name calmly laid on the fluffy pillows, waiting for you to open it. You gulped, almost forgetting about the itch at the back of your throat as an uneasy feeling settled in your heart. Anger sparked in your chest as you snapped, with a sway in your step you marched out your room and down the hallway where Ciel was. Harshly, you knocked on the door before entering, your sharp gaze locking with Sebastian's. He was wiping Ciel's forehead with a drenched cloth. 

"What is this?" You growled. Sebastian raised a brow, his eyes shooting to Ciel and then back at you, "Not the boy." You clarified, infuriated, "Why is it here?" 

"You will have to be a bit more specific, Miss Dreadful." 

"The book. Why is it here?" Your voice cracked as another string of blood ran down your chin.  Sebastian narrowed his irises, moving from his trembling master to you.  

"You ordered to bring it here." He told, watching you closely. Your already pale face lost all color. You took a silent step back – too close, he is always too close. "I am to assume that you were sleepwalking?" You shook your head. 

"No, no..." You murmured, stumbling past him and to the bed. You sat the corner, taking Ciel's small hand into your own and squeezing it gently. It was cold. So cold. If he wasn't shaking and breathing so violently you would've assumed he had died. From the sweat drenched child you glanced at the butler, standing in the same place you left him only now staring at you, "That was not me, Sebastian. Please do not listen to midnight banter anymore." 

"If not you, then who?" 

"It is impolite to ask questions you already know the answers to." You told, a small smile tugging at the corners of your chapped lips, "You felt it. The darkness. The emptiness.... And I understand that you had no choice but to obey, but..." 

"Are you telling me you were possessed?" He raised a brow.  

"Yes." You said simply. Ciel's hand squeezed back, hard. 

"That is highly unlikely, Miss Dreadful--" 

"Are you trying to convince me or yourself?" You asked, making the butler shut his mouth in an instant. "You have nothing to fear, demon. He is not after you." 

Silence settled between the two of you. Finally, after a while he spoke again "Why the book?" He changed topic. 

"Spells of death, summoning and destruction are there. All the bad and dark things lurking in the shadows...A list of everyone who has died and will die because of me." 

"And is that a long list?" 

"Longer than you might expect."  

"So, you are scared to face the consequences of your actions." He told. You frowned. 

"No, Sebastian, I am scared to not me in the right state of mind and use it on people who are not named." 

"Is that possible if it's already predicted?" 

"The future is ever changing."  

A wheezing gasp made the two of you stop conversing and turn to the sat up boy in the bed. He breathed, heavily, both of his eyes widened and hollow, tinted with fear and pain. He snapped to you, yanking his hand out of yours. Your attention was diverted by the pentagram and you locked your jaw, angry. 

"Saw what life would be without it?" You questioned, coldly. "And then how it was all torn away in front of your eyes? " Ciel glared at your, "you are lucky you woke up so soon. Some never do." His ocean blue eyes then looked at Sebastian. 

"It was a beast. A creature of the night." He told, his voice firm despite him still trying to catch his breath, "A werewolf." 

"Find me when you are ready," You said, standing up, "I shall place a tracking spell on it." With that, you left the room. 

~*~ 

Roughly an hour later you stood in the Ciel Phatmohives study by his table, the said boy sitting in his chair and watching your movements closely. Below you laid a map of London, candles surrounding it. A faint smell of smoke tinted the air. Your shook your clasped palms, feeling sharp animal bones poke your sensitive flesh. There was a strange buzzing heard – one coming from your lips since you spoke so fast. With a couple more hand shakes you let your hands fall, the animal bones harshly hitting the old map and scattering. Ciel raised a brow. 

"Well?" He broke the silence, his bored tone falling on deaf ears as you swiftly took out a needle and pierced your finger. A lone drop of blood spurred, dropping on the parchment and spreading as if wildfire, connecting each bone with one another. Ciel blinked, his emotionless facade slipping as he leaned in with magnificents gleaming in his exposed ocean blue eye. His gaze from the map to your satisfied smirk, eager to ask what did this pattern mean, "Did it find him?" Your long finger pointed at the spot where everything connected. 

"He is here. Though, not for long." You spoke, quietly, "The bones are fragile. He will leave soon if you do not act now." Ciel nodded, curly.  

"Where is he now?" He asked. 

"Station Victoria." You told. 

"Sebastian, inform Scotland Yard immediately." 

"Of course, Milord." The butler bowed, leaving the room in a blink. Ciel then turned to you. 

"Do you know his name?" You shook your head at the question, "Can you find out?" 

"I can try." You murmured, taking the big map as gently as possible as to not disturb the bones or the blood on it. Slowly, you stalked to the playing fire and threw everything in. It spurred and sparked almost playfully. The dancing colours reflected in your eyes. "We shall find out who he is once the fire stops burning." Ciel frowned. 

"That may take hours. He may be already gone by the time." He argued. You glanced down. 

"I can immobilize him if you wish." You told, "I do not wish to. But I promised to help. If it is your decision, I will obey." 

"Won't that come back to haunt you?" 

"I am dying. Nothing can scare me more than that, Sir Phantomhive."  

He nodded, curly. 

"Then please do so, Miss Dreadful." 

… 

… 

… 

"The beast goes by the name of Ethan Chandler." You told. 

"How can you tell from a pile of ashes?"  

"They can say a lot, Sir Phantomhive, if you just know how to listen."


	8. The Witch, My Light.

White powder dusted in the air as you tapped your skin one last time with a powder puff. Your nose tickled from the chemicals. Leaning out you stared at your reflection in the mirror, finding the shape of your face lit up by orange flares from the lanterns around your room. You took some rogue and softly patted your cheeks, later pinching them for extra effect.  

A knock on your door stopped you from putting any more makeup, making your (colour) eyes shoot to it. It pried open, Mei-Rin poking her head in through the crack. She did not seem happy to see you, your guess was she was still bitter over your lack of aid for Ciel, and clearing her throat she spoke, "It's time to go, Lady Dreadful." The tone of her voice only proved your suspicions. With a curt nod you stood up, gently taking the edges of your beautiful, albeit heavy, dress and adjusting the torso for easier breathing. You gave her a poor excuse of a smile, which she returned almost in an instant, and letting some playful strands fall from your curled hair you moved out your room. 

You found your two companions patiently waiting by the main entrance for you. Ciel was dressed appropriately for a ball this important, whilst Sebastian wore his usual black suit – you pondered for a moment was he even allowed to wear anything else? 

The two men watched you like hawks as you moved down the stairwell, faint muffling of Bardroy and Finnian about your 'Other wordly beauty' caressing your ears as you greeted the demon and his master with a small, pained smile. 

"You look lovely this evening, Miss Dreadful." Ciel commented, though his voice held no tenderness. You bowed your head lightly, prying your lips to speak, "As do you," You told, "Though, I must admit I did not expect us to be celebrating so soon." You added as the three of you walked out the mansion, Ciel being first to step into the cool evening air followed by you. 

"I was invited long before we met, Miss Dreadful." Ciel informed, "After all, there is nothing to celebrate." 

"Did they not catch him?" You wondered. Ciel shook his head. 

"I'm afraid it was too late." 

"Forgive me." You said whilst sitting down, "If I was only a bit quicker--" 

"You cannot rush magic, am I right? There was nothing you could've done." He offered a polite smile, " We know who he is and I trust Scotland Yard will sees him quick. In the meantime, I wish to thank you, Miss Dreadful." He suddenly changed topic, making you raise a brow, "You have helped us greatly in our investigation. You were kind and honest, despite our rocky start. I hope you enjoy yourself this evening. You deserve it." Your lips couldn’t help but form a somber smile as your eyes travelled from him to Sebastian and then your neatly folded hands.  A sigh escaped your lips. The carriage started moving with a jolt. 

"Your third line cousin, married to Sir Victor Clare that works in a questionable line of work." You quoted, "I remember, Sir Ciel. I shall not give away my identity, that you may count on." He nodded, "And...Kindness is not the word I would use to describe my feelings and actions towards you in the past, but..." 

"Have you grown to trust me?" You shrugged at the question. 

"I do not believe I have anything left to lose anymore, Sir Phantomhive." You said, gazing out the window. For the first time it was not cloudy, nor was it raining – the evening sky was crisp and chill with not a cloud in sight.  

"Than may I ask?" 

"Please do." 

"What is your name?" Your eyes shot to Sebastian. You noted the corner of his pale lips turn upwards through his eyes portrayed nothing but innocents. You then looked at Ciel, finding his cool albeit curious blue eye.  

"(Name) (Lastname)." You introduced, "I lived in London, not far from Saint Paul's Cathedral until the witch trials started." You said, "I was a nun." You added quietly. 

"And did the locals find out about your...abilities?" He questioned. You leaned back into the comfortable seat, feeling your corset burn on your sensitive skin. 

"Magic...is a tricky thing. Either you control it," You licked your dry lips, "or it controls you." 

~*~ 

The pleasant chatter of nobles filled your ears as the scent of spirits and exquisite desserts mixed with the array of flowers in each and every room. The mansion was filled with people – some bid you hello, most threw disapproving glances your way as you stuck close to the _Aristocrat of Evil_. You didn’t mind it much, though. Ciel had asked you to enjoy the night and that was what you were going to do. 

When you entered the Ballroom you felt the little breath you had in your tired lungs hitch, your skin numbing as your eyes gazed at the never ending ray of portraits on these tall walls. Music greeted your ears. Soft gushes of air from the dancing couples tickled your cheeks and swayed your hair. A familiar scent of honey hit you, though disappeared just as fast. You knew this place. Was this not the room you saw your visions in? Was this not foretold in the prophecy? 

A ray of emotions passed you: from happiness to sadness and back. It was all coming to an end after all. 

"What have we here?" A sweet, though unfamiliar voice, cooed, and soon you noticed a man approaching you. He wore a delicate smile, his eyes gazing into your own as if seeing a Greek statue for the first time, "What do I owe the pleasure of such a beauty visiting my home?" He asked, making a smile tilt on your lips as he gently kissed your hand, "Dorian Gray." He introduced, "The host of this...event, at your define service." Before you could say your name, or the fake one, another unfamiliar voice called from the crowd, making both you and the beautiful man next to you turn and stare. 

"Miss (Lastname), what a pleasant surprise!" He said, extending his hand for you to shake. Dorian glanced at you, confused, though noting the same confusion in your eyes he quickly glossed over the situation. The unfamiliar man left his hand hanging for a few more seconds before apologizing for his rudeness, "Forgive me, Miss, didn’t mean to seem rude. I just didn’t expect to see another officer!" 

"Officer?" Dorian cited, curious. 

"Sussex police." The man explained with a cheerful smile. Only now did you smell the alcohol from his clothes and breath. 

"I didn’t know women were allowed to join the force." Dorian commented, glancing at you. You winked. "But alas," He hurriedly said, "I envy the men who have the pleasure of working with you, Miss (Lastname). Shall we dance?" He extended his arm to you, and you gladly took it, leaving the Scotland Yard policeman on his own. As if on cue, the music stopped and the room boomed with applause. 

A small laugh escaped your lips as did Dorian's, and giving a few claps of your own you proceeded to take place along with him and the other dancing couples. His arm wrapped around your waist. Yours gently landed on his shoulder. Your fingers intertwined. A sweet smell of vanilla and roses hit your nose, and you couldn’t help but stand perhaps just a heartbeat closer to the man. He smiled at you,a  smile he no doubt gave to all ladies who dared to glance his way. 

"You are a very interesting woman, Miss (Lastname)." He told. The music started. Dorian pulled you along. 

"I hope it is the good kind of interesting." You replied. 

"Is there any other?" 

~*~ 

"My, you seem to be enjoying yourself." Sebastian commented with bite in his voice. Your eyes roamed to the taller man: he was gazing down at you, his hands clasped behind his back. You had finished dancing some time ago and insisted that Dorian woo another woman for his nightly ventures, which he, after a bit of convincing, did in the end. You stood alone until approached, admiring one of the many portraits. 

"Was that not my task?" You questioned, your words nearly drowned in another line of applause for the orchestra.  

"For a woman, who just nights prior was ready to step into her own grave, it does seem just a bit odd." He said, making you chuckle. He raised a brow, both confused and fascinated – so you were able to laugh. Strange. It was the first time Sebastian heard the jump your heart made along with a happy melodious ring of your voice as it escaped your glossy lips. Not even the whiff of death could ruin that moment. 

That one, small moment when the only thing he could hear was your voice. 

"I still am," You admitted, "I just had a few too many spirits to drink."  

"Then perhaps," Sebastian spoke again, stepping an inch closer but still being far enough to not raise suspicion, "You won't reject me to a dance?"  

For a while you stood in place, staring into the dull eyes of the painting before you gradually turned your head sideways, letting him take your hand and guide you to the dance floor. Your eyes roamed the crowd, a glimmer of a white dress passing you as the orchestra started again. You inhaled, sharply, feeling a shiver crawl up your skin as your chest nearly touched his. A scent of musky cologne hit your nose, along with a sense of security and warmth. Your (colour) irises glimmered in the chandelier light as you met his intense red ones and did nothing but admire them.  

The silence between you settled though you hardly noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo!!!!!!! I can't believe we're nearing the end!! The support for this series was/is so overwhelmingly positive! I'm so happy!!!  
> \--As for this chapter, if you don't know who Dorian Grey is you need to find out. NOW. Google this man he is gorgeous and I would totally date him if I could. But I can't. So I'll settle for this.  
> Anyway! This was one of my fav chapters to write. Much lighter than our usual dark and sad and angry cha... Just like the show, it has it's moments of serenity... I'll leave you on that note...


	9. The Witch, My Darkness.

As you swayed the corners of your eyes danced with colorful hems of dressed and sparkling lights despite your gaze being completely fixed on his. Sebastian's hold on you faltered, the former somewhat tight grip still tingling on the sensitive area of your skin. You gulped, the intensity in them spiking once he spun you. A smile broke on your lips, but as you came to face him again you quickly masked it with a pleased smirk. Sebastian mimicked your motion. Your heart thudded in your chest. 

How...how did you not notice it at first? He had always stood close to you, a personal preference of his, and you have seen his face plenty of times to know where each small detail was. But yet here you were, light on your feet as you couldn’t help but admire him: the curl of his dark lashes, the smooth pale skin of his cheeks, but most of all the small tug on the corner of his lips that seemed to be taken straight out one of Dorian Gray's portraits. Your eyes must've stayed there for too long since a soft chuckle  was soon heard, snapping you out of a daze. 

"See something you like?" He questioned, raising a brow. Perhaps it was the influence of many drinks taken prior to this conversation, or perhaps you just did not care anymore, as you blurred a simple "Yes." And watched his expression morph to confusion and then satisfaction. He was pleased with your answer, albeit surprised, "You indeed had too much to drink." Again, a laugh escaped your lips, so loud it drowned out the orchestra but only to you. Your head spun. The room was hot. 

You took a small step back once the dance stopped, to steady yourself no doubt, bowing your head softly in curtsy as Sebastian leaned in and kissed the back of your palm. The room echoed with applause. The spot where his lips touched tingled pleasantly. Again, your gazes connected and suddenly nervous you freed yourself from his grasp. 

"I believe I need a moment," You said, "excuse me." You added quietly, walking past him and to the main entrance, your fingers wrapping around a glass of champagne as you passed a waiter. Sebastian's eyes bore into the spot you once stood, his breathing steady though his mind raced – what a peculiar woman you are. He smirked at the thought. 

Alone at last you plopped onto a bench, the cool nights air tickling your skin and pinching on your hot cheeks. The mansion which you came from stood in front of you. You could still here the drunken chatter of men as you noticed figures move by the door, it opening and revealing giggling women and cherry cheeked lords. With a dance in their steps they were lost down the road.  

You fiddled with the cool half empty glass in your hands, trying to calm down. _Not good_ , you though, _not good. He is too close. Much too close for comfort_. Despite seeing him in your future and knowing full well you will fall for him you still denied the fact. _The future is ever changing, nothing is set in stone. Perhaps...Perhaps my vision was wrong,_ you thought, taking a small sip and savoring the strong taste in your mouth, _they have never been before, but there is a first time for everything...He is a demon, A creature not of this world. He is not capable of love, and my feelings would be--_

You smiled to yourself. _What feelings? I feel nothing for him._ The champagne was strangely bitter. 

You were not surprised when you felt a gush of wind pass your face, a lone figure appearing in the corner of your eye. Slowly, you turned your head to the stranger – Sebastian looked relaxed, his normally uptight appearance dishmandled as his suit was a bit messy, his hair ruffled and wet from the drizzle. Drizzle? Small drops landed on your hair and face, some rolling down your neck and into your cleavage. Before long, the current became stronger. Your eyes stung from the leaking eyeliner. Sebastian abruptly took off his jacket, landing it on your shoulders carefully. 

"You will catch a cold if you stay." You said raspy, your voice appearing quieter from the buzzing of rain.  

"I can't get a cold." He said, a smile playing in his voice though not on his face. "But I agree. We should head inside." You merely shook your head, placing the glass near the leg of the bench and leaning your back on the wooden surface.  

"Looking back...I always come to wonder how did I love London so much? It rains here on days and nights...But at those small, moments where the sky is clear, the weather is pleasantly humid...not enough to feel confined, but enough to feel it caress your hands and feet... I remember those moments and I instantly fall in love all over again, my questions long forgotten until the next rain..." You glanced at him, "I do not expect you to understand. Beauty is subjective, after all. Despite loving those clear nights so much I came to enjoy the rain as well. It is so peaceful, no? Washes away all dirt, pain and fear...Leaving you strangely empty but whole at the same time."  

"I did not know you were a poet at heart." You laughed at his statement. 

"I am full of surprises. Oh, if only we had met when I was much younger... You would be shocked how poetic I was. It must sound so silly to you."  

It was cold to the bone and you shivered, your clothes wet and sticking to your skin. You were almost ready to move back inside and warm up, almost, but as the rain abruptly began it stopped, leaving cool air at it's wake. You smiled, glancing down at your glass – it was overflowing with water. What a shame. No more champagne left. 

"But do your eyes not sparkle like (color) scarabs under the shade?" His smooth, low voice made you stiffen, "and do you not have hair that gleams like the finest satin in the sun?" You flinched when his ungloved fingers gently landed on your jaw, wrapping around it and slowly turning your head to face him. He was close, again, much too close for comfort. Your breathing labored, heat spreading through your body as a couple of strands of shabby wet hair fell over your eye. Sebastian did not care, as with a  swift movement he hooked the lock over your ear with his spare hand, "does your skin not feel like rose petals under my touch? With a smile so bright that the stars envy it?" His finger ran on your lower lip. 

"You are beginning to sound like Dorian Gray," You murmured, finding yourself lost in his eyes. Sebastian chuckled. 

"I'm hoping that's not a bad thing." He replied, his breath fanning your parted lips. The tension in the air rose, your head almost spinning from his closeness. You inhaled, sharply, surprised when he broke eye contact to glance at your lips.  

_This will change it all_ , you thought, your fingers grazing his chest, _Pull away. If I commence the future is set, nothing can be changed then, I will_ —as he looked back at you with such hunger and intensity your heart nearly stopped – _I will die_. 

Despite the urge to inch away, the desperate need to be loved after all those lonesome years was stronger, and you weren't sure who met who half way but your lips connected, sending sparks as your world drowned in darkness. Your fingers lanced into his wet hair, pulling him closer as the moment of the sweet kiss was long forgotten by the urgency that started building up in your lower abdomen, his hand coming to rest on your side. You parted only for air – a meek gasp escaped your  mouth that send a shiver down his spine. He realized he could watch you like this forever: flustered and hazy, _such a lovely sigh_ t, he thought. 

He landed his head on the crook of your neck, pulling you closer as was about to whisper something into your ear when-- 

You froze, your heart struck with fear as your whole word dyed itself red from shock. That hum. The Lions hum. You knew Sebastian heard it.Felt it. That painfully horrendous presence, that shadow that watched over you and how it did not like when someone had the decency to touch you. 

But instead of pulling away, Sebastian pulled you closer, his head nuzzling your neck as his arms tightening around, as if to say 'She belongs to _me_ '. Your mouth was dry and bitter with the taste of copper, disappointment filling you when you thought of what would have happened if an entity so malicious hadn't interfered. Not even Sebastian could compete with it. 

You stiffened, again. 

Was this really Sebastian you held pressed so tightly? 

**_Sebastian's POV:_ **

_He didn’t feel anything. Naturally, being a creature not of this plain left him empty of empathy: he didn’t feel sorry, he didn’t feel responsible, nor did he have even a pinch of sympathy for anyone. What he could feel was anger – deprived of sadness and any other emotion most of the time Sebastian felt completely empty, but contempt._

_That was until he met you, of course. Instead of the dull aching he felt a storm rise where his heart should've been – a constant state of interest, desire, anger and disgust mixing into one big mess that he could not understand for the life of him. He didn’t feel happy when he saw you, he didn’t feel excited when your eyes connected, something you obviously felt since your cheeks heated up so brightly he'd wonder how didn’t you faint._

_What he did feel was desire, desire to know you, desire to feel you and desire to destroy you all at the same time. They say the line between love and hatred often blur – and perhaps this was what he was experiencing. After all, he couldn’t feel love._

_And so here he was, feeling overwhelmed with the need to protect you from someone whose power was eternal and unlimited. Sebastian wanted to be the only one to touch you – hard enough to hurt, but soft enough not to kill. He knew you fell for his charms, but to be fair, he fell for yours as well. Perhaps not as hard as you for him, but he didn’t care. He guessed this was as close to love as he could ever get._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter :( can't believe this will end so soon...Thank you everyone for the support <3


	10. The Witch, My Ending.

The last breath you drew was ragged and hot as his fingers slid up your thighs. The dimmed lights of one of sir Dorian Grey's bedrooms were pleasant to the eye, the harsh rain hitting the glass drowned out by hushed murmurs and gasps for air between the two of you. You, atop him, your dress somewhere near the expensive bedding, your corset being untied by your and his fingers as his lips caressed the sensitive skin of your neck. You uttered something, something that sounded like his name and all he wanted was for you to repeat it over and over again like a prayer.

Suddenly, your hands pushed him down, your strength faintly surprising him, yet leaving him oddly pleased. Your swollen lips formed a small smirk, (color) eyes staring him down with need and hunger as you leaned in for a passionate lip lock. The tight restrains around your torso were let loose, your reddened skin so sensitive to his cold touch that you shivered once he slowly tore the corset off. A white blouse was what you were left in, your hair messed and makeup smeared from rain and his kisses - a sight that he wasn’t supposed to like so much. Your hands pulled off his tie, then his shirt, lastly grazing his bare chest.

Being here...so close...so warm. For the first time in your life you felt truly loved.

His arms snaked around you, his mouth tasting of spirits and his scent filling your lungs. Your fingers tangled into his hair. You chuckled into the kiss. He pulled away, briefly, his hungry eyes finding your brightly smiling form with slight confusion in his red ones. The chuckling didn’t stop – so low and melodic. You shook your head softly, your hand coming to clasp around his throat and squeezing so tight it caught him by surprise. The smile was wiped off your face, replaced by a sneer and such burning hatred in your (color) irises took him complete aback. You pulled him closer, if it was even possible, " _She_..." The voice you spoke in was low and raspy, "... _belongs_.. _.to **me**_."

A lone drop of blood left your nose, soon followed after a stream and cold sweat breaking out your pores as your body violently shook with a laugh that the whole manor could hear. Sebastian tried to snap you out of it, to stop your hands from clawing at your own eyes or skin but the amount of strength you had was inhumane...Almost like...

You weren't you anymore.

~*~

"You're dying." Ciel stated, sitting on a stool in your room, a handkerchief pressed to his nose. Mei-Rin was jumping around your bed with nurses, the manor buzzing with medics and even spiritualists, bringing towels, medicine and other produce to somehow ease your pain. A paled nurse cleaned your face with a wet cloth, the other bringing new fresh clothes since yours were colored with specks of blood, "But at least you’re not screaming anymore..." He added, quietly.

Ciel didn’t know if you could hear him. Frankly, he didn’t know if you were aware at all. You had been out of it, either laughing, screaming or biting your way to that dreaded book you ordered Sebastian to bring from your home. It has almost been a week since the ball, and your health has only gone downhill from there.

Your hair was greasy, your skin cold and eyes empty of any hope and life. The only thing you did was cough and cry when the pain of your headache of the strain in your lungs got too much to handle. You didn't claw for that book anymore. Ciel was certain that who ever took over your mind was getting what it wanted without magic.

The tissue tearing pain made you jolt and snap your eyes open, a cough shaking your bones as nurses were quick to cover your lips. Raspy, you whispered something, probably a thanks before falling back into the pillows and gripping your dirtied sheets to hold in what little dignity you had left. Ciel only shook his head." If you had let me take you to the doctor this wouldn’t have happened. I know many good specialists of this field. You may had been cured." He would repeat often, but you would just drone him out and focus on the last breaths of oxygen you could catch.

The fire in your heart was dimming, along with the wish of happiness and peace in your eyes. You felt weak and fragile, all hope already lost with along with the blood that spilled from your swollen lips. The world seemed to spin slower than it normally did – the people around you were whispering as well, or was your hearing just failing you? You gulped, feeling cold to the bone.

And yet, despite all of that, you felt content. You helped a friend. You fulfilled your destiny. The cards never lie, after all. You just wished...wished you could have a go with them one last time. With a small, painful smile stretching on your lips you shut your eyes.

_Such cruel fate awaits those...Sometimes I would wonder...was it really worth it? All of it. To stay in touch with those we love for the sake of familiarity and not to drive ourselves mad?...Was there really, really something genuine about this feeling we know as love?_

"S-Sir...I-I think we're loosing her!"

_Are we creatures of warmth? Or are we creatures of the cold dark night?...I'd often wish I could answer those questions, but I'd always find myself at a loss...When did the line between family and friend, foe and lover blur?...and when did we realize our own family had forsaken us?...leaving us all alone in those empty nights when all we need is just a pinch of affection?_

"Bring the doctor!"

"Mister! Mister please come quick!"

"All leave the patients room!"

_I'd wonder...Was it really worth admitting we need others to survive when we so often fade away in our own minds?....Because I used to believe that...we were the only ones important._

"Doctor! Doctor! Doctor Frankenstein!"

The room smelled of honey and wet wood, faintly reminding you of your home. The comfortable bedding now closely mimicked the hard mattress you laid your back on everyday, the wind howling on that old dirt road not a soul could be found on. A faint hum of the ocean from afar reached your ears, the hissing of your cauldron making you grin and open your eyes – what you found made your heart swell. Your fingers played with the blue deck of cards – such a velvety surface. No ache in your throat. No blood spewing from your lips. No book tugged away in your bookcase.

You spread the cards and pulled one out – **Death**. You smiled, almost lovingly, setting the card on the small coffee table by your feet and briefly admiring it before turning to the brewing liquid inside your cauldron. What will the future show you?

You stood up, dusting off your soft dress and swirling the potion with a wooden spoon. It hissed at you. You had the urge to playfully hiss back. You took out the spoon, watching the golden liquid glimmer in the bright fire light, spinning and swirling. You blinked, leaning in to see your future--

Everything cut to black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short last chapter, but I felt like it was enough. Thank you everyone for reading, leaving comments and kudos. Means the world to me <3 I won't make a second part of this. I am content with the ending, because despite being sad...in a way it's happy. The reader got what she wanted. She went out on a happy note (to her). I know there were a lot of things left unsolved - the Devil, the book, the Readers past and etc... I wanted to elaborate more but I never really got to it I guess. Didn't want to over complicate a simple fic: The Devil granted a young witch's wishes and she almost fell for his charms. She wrote a book in his name that she was supposed to use for one thing or another (if you know of the show then it is to bring the apocalypse). The Reader used to be a lovable, though arrogant, witch that was good but destined to turn bad.   
>  But what does this, all of this, really matter? Everything in life is up for interpretation. I guess those points would've made some point clearer but in the end I leave it up to your imagination <3  
>  If you did follow the amazing show you may recognize the deal with witches, Lucifer, the cottage in the middle of nowhere ( Cut-Wife's home), the brief mention of Frankenstein's name...;)   
>  Love you all. See you in my other fics. This one was by far one of my favorites to write.


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